


Observing

by allonsytotumblr



Series: Fëanor and Nerdanel Happy With No Angst At All [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Sibling Bonding, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 08:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13185801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsytotumblr/pseuds/allonsytotumblr
Summary: Fingolfin visits Fëanor in Mahtan's forge, which annoys the latter greatly, as he just wants to stealthily stare at Nerdanel.





	Observing

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Gabriel for the prompt! Send me more!

****  


Hands were incredibly detailed, as an increasingly annoyed Fëanor was learning. He was sculpting today, and his task was to carve a pair of hands. Hands are terribly hard to shape, and he feared that he has chipped away too much of the marble, and yet he did not want to have begin again, so he tried to ignore this.

 

His hand will not have fingernails either- the thought of chiseling stone into ten transparent curves was far too daunting. Hopefully Mahtan will not critique this. Some people do bite their nails after all.

 

And his half brother was here, which added to his annoyance. Fingolfin _had_ to be here, in the forge, his forge, well not Fëanor’s forge, but more his than Fingolfin’s who is intruding on Fëanor’s work today because he was, “interested in your crafting, brother, as you spend so much time here, and I wonder what draws you,” or some nonsense. While the reasons that Fëanor had chosen an apprenticeship away from the palace, instead of private lessons within the palace, were twofold- initially because it served to keep him away from his step family and then because it allowed him to be in the company of Nerdanel almost everyday, he had no intention of sharing either sentiment with Fingolfin.

 

And Mahtan of course had allowed him to come and watch, as if he could have turned him down without seeming rude. Fingolfin sat in a chair next to Fëanor, his presence a detriment to his already less than successful sculpting. At least Mahtan had mentioned to Fingolfin that Fëanorwas one of his best pupils, although his current work seemed to the contrary.

 

“Are you going to add fingernails?” Said Fingolfin, as Fëanor set the hand again down, trying to find an angle at which it looked good.

 

“Yes, _eventually._ Obviously it is not finished yet.” Fëanor felt his nerves tearing themselves apart. “Surely my work cannot be the only one interesting to you. There are other apprentices here, go observe one of them instead,” he added through clenched teeth.

 

“Alright,” replied Fingolfin, not seeming offended. He was so unfailingly _nice_ , which Fëanor hated as it made his behavior towards his step brother so much less justified. And yet he continued, ignoring his small flashes of guilt.

 

“Who here would not mind me watching their work?”

 

“I do not know-”

 

“Perhaps her,” he heard Fingolfin say. Fëanor continued to focus on his work hoping that Fingolfin would just go and bother whatever girl he was talking about. Or not bother- Fëanor was sure that bother, judging by the amount of staring and unusual amount of girls who kept passing by Feanor’s work table. Honestly, no one ever gave Fëanor this much attention, not that he wanted it, but in the interest of fairness…

 

“Fëanor? I said, do you think that she would mind if I-” This time Feanor did look up and saw the she in question. He felt his blood freeze in his veins. Why, out of all the apprentices, why did Fingolfin have to choose Nerdanel, Fëanor’s best friend, and the object of his completely silent affections that mostly consisted for Feanor staring at the back of her head as she worked, and occasionally saying awkward things. Nerdanel was his friend, and he jealously wanted to keep her company only for himself. Fëanorbegan to say that yes, Nerdanel really would be bothered, but Fingolfin had already gotten up and walked over to her.

 

Fëanor watched, tormented, as his step brother introduced himself, complimenting her work. She too had been set to sculpting a hand, but hers was beautiful, the fingers slim and graceful- with long curved fingernails as well.

 

Fingofin had introduced himself, and now they were shaking hands. Why did Fingolfin have to be so amicable, and good looking, and- a new horrifying thought struck him- what if Nerdanel should be charmed by him? No. The possibility was too ghastly to consider, and yet it weighed heavily upon Feanor’s mind as he completed his carving.

 

He could hear their conversation. Fingolfin was talking about Nerdanel’s piece, “...and it holds a myriad of interpretations, because if placed palm up it implies some kind of supplication, but with the palm down it represents something more sinister, like a disembodied hand or…” Well of course Nerdanel’s work was _good_ , this was not exactly some earth shaking revelation that Fingolfin had stumbled upon, Fëanor thought bitterly. He had often said as much himself, but Nerdanel had never called him, ‘my lord,’ as she was doing with Fingolfin now. Of course their friendship was much more informal but… this was torture. Why was she smiling at Fingolfin so much? This surely must be more than the amount of smiling required by social courtesy.

 

The worst part was that Fëanor did not believe that Fingolfin knew his capacity to charm others, (“What do you mean she is in love with me, I only said, ‘good day’!”) His step brother in all likelihood thought that he was only being friendly.

 

Fëanor must do something. Anything. He was finished with his work for the day, if not proud of his creation, and he was free to go. He could go over there and tell Fingolfin this, and he will have no excuse to stay since he had come to watch Fëanor after all. This unfortunately meant that Fëanor will not get to speak to Nerdanel much, he had not spoken to her at all today, but this was the price to pay in order to get Fingolfin and his stupid shiny blonde hair away from Nerdanel.

 

He stood up, at once feeling self conscious about his forge clothes. They were well worn and covered in minute flecks of stone from today’s work, while his step brother was infuriatingly dressed in well tailored garments, not having to worry about the grit from crafting which got all over the sculptor. Nerdanel worn the same type of clothes as Fëanor but she looked perfectly at home in them. She carved stone more than he did and thus her arms were nicely toned.

 

He approached Nerdanel’s workspace. Though they had been friends with her for so long, Feanor still felt giddy and nervous around her. He had thought that these feelings would fade with time but apparently not. “I am finished for the day, if you are ready, we may leave,” he announced, breaking into their conversation. Feanor prayed that his step brother would agree and they cold go quickly.

 

“Feanor!” Said Nerdanel, “I did not see you at all today, and you are already leaving?” She had noticed that fact that he had not spoken to her, which meant that he was in her thoughts possibly on a daily basis, even if they did not talk- how thrilling.

 

Less so was Fingolfin, who Fëano had briefly forgotten all about when Nerdanel spoke to him, saying, “Oh, you two know each other?” He meant it as a throwaway remark, but Fëanor’s heart sank, not for the first time during this day. He had never mentioned Nerdanel to his step family, not because she was not important, but precisely because she was a significant part of his life, and he did not want to share her or the times they spent together.

 

“Yes, we have been friends ever since Fëanor began studying under my father,” Nerdanel replied flatly. Her unspoken question: _And in all that time, he has never once mentioned me?_ hanging in the air.

 

“Ah, you must be the gorgeous and talented artisan Fëanor talks about so often, I thought that you might be, but I could not recall your name- forgive me I am terrible with them,” said Fingolfin smoothly. Before Fëanor could process what had just transpired, Fingolfin said that he would go and thank Mahtan for allowing him to visit, and left them.

 

“Fëanor, and do not dare not answer me, did you honestly tell your family I was talented-”

 

“Yes.” Vala forgive him, Fëanor had thought it and told _her_ quite often at least, if not his step family.

 

But she was not done with him yet, “- and _gorgeous?_ ” Yes, why had Fingolfin felt the need to add that adjective in, he wondered.

 

“I...possibly, something like that,” he answered hurriedly.

 

“Well, what a stunning revelation, I never knew that you cared!” She was teasing him, and enjoying it immensely. All this was Fingolfin’s fault.

 

Trying to change subject, Fëanor cut in: “And _I_ did not know that you favored golden hair.”

 

“What?” She truly seemed confused, not rising to denial or even blushing. Well. Perhaps they really had been having an ordinary conversation and Fëanor’s jealous mind had only imagined any attraction on her part. It would make sense. He had never seen her show interest in any youth before now at least.

 

“I meant- nothing, nevermind.”

 

Shaking her head Nerdanel replied, “You are so strange sometimes, Fëanor, honestly.”

 

Seeing his step brother coming towards them, Fëanor went to meet him, leaving behind a very bewildered Nerdanel. But better to be thought strange than to have her fancy Fingolfin, and thus he was in higher spirits than he had been all day as he walked back to the palace. The walk seemed longer in his his step brother’s company, but at least Fingolfin was quiet.

 

As much as Fëanor hated unnecessary conversations with him, he had to know why Fingolfin had saved him back in the forge with Nerdanel. “Why did you tell her that I had said those things when I never had, when I never even mentioned her to you?” He asked bluntly.

 

“It seemed like the polite thing to do,” replied Fingolfin. “If there was a reason you never mentioned her, she need not know it. I am sure you did not mean to offend her.” Well, of course Fëanorhad not.

 

“And why did you have to say that I said she was, ‘gorgeous,’ it was unneeded, and now she may think that I-”

 

“The worst idea that she will get is that you fancy her, which you obviously do,” Fingolfin answered.

 

“Whatever you are getting at, it is incorrect,” Fëanor said coldly, feeling his blood freeze in his veins.

 

“You repeatedly glanced in her direction throughout the day,” Fingolfin began.

 

“Oh how astute. It is actually possible to look at things or people without-”, but his step brother was not finished presenting the damning evidence he had collected.

 

“I watched you two together after I went to thank Mahtan. With Nerdanel you look happier than I have ever seen you- not that the bar is set so high. You might have actually even smiled at her.”

 

Fëanor was silent. To observe such small details and to understand what they meant in relation to a person’s heart was beyond him. Fingolfin had guessed right. Fëanor hated that he of all people should be first to know, not Nerdanel herself, and then his step family when their engagement was formally announced.

 

“It is nothing to be ashamed of, she seems very well suited to you,” offered Fingolfin as Fëanor continued to brood.

 

At least, he thought well of Nerdanel, that was something. Fëanor tried to think positively, “It is not none of your business, and I warn you to stay out of it.” He tried come up with something to threaten Fingolfin with and, not knowing him well enough, failed.

 

They reached the palace and Fëanor could finally depart his step brother’s company. Once alone, he examined the events of the day. The more he reflected, Fingolfin’s comment had not been horrendously bad. Nerdanel had not seemed bothered by the fact that Fëanor had praised her to his family, on the contrary, she had seemed rather- pleased? Yes, she had teased him about it but nicely so, and the inescapable fact remained that it had been because of Fingolfin's quick speech. His action had been unnecessary, and certainly uncalled for considering Fëanor’s treatment of him since- well forever really. Yet he had done so anyway.

 

While Fëanor would not go so far as to actually thank him, he supposed that he could make some effort to act slightly nicer to his half brother for an amount of time equal to Fingolfin’s action anyway.

 


End file.
